over the heart, and made no progress towards freedom.
Jody and Ganser Mays recovered from my first onslaught and clung to me like limpets, one on each arm. I staggered under their combined weight. Muscles measured his distance and flung his bunched hand at my jaw. I managed to move my head just in time and felt the leather glove burn my cheek. Then the other fist came round, faster and crossing, and hit me square. I fell reeling across the box, released suddenly by Ganser Mays and Jody, and my head smashed solidly into the iron bars of the manger.
Total instant unconsciousness was the result.
Death must be like that, I suppose.
6
Life came back in an incomprehensible blur.
I couldn’t see properly. Couldn’t focus. Heard strange noises. Couldn’t control my body, couldn’t move my legs, couldn’t lift my head. Tongue paralysed. Brain whirling. Everything disconnected and hazy.
‘Drunk,’ someone said distinctly.
The word made no sense. It wasn’t I who was drunk.
‘Paralytic.’
The ground was wet. Shining. Dazzled my eyes. I was sitting on it. Slumped on it, leaning against something hard. I shut my eyes against the drizzle and that made the whirling worse. I could feel myself falling. Banged my head. Cheek in the wet. Nose in the wet. Lying on the hard wet ground. There was a noise like rain.
‘Bloody amazing,’ said a voice.
‘Come on, then, let’s be having you.’
Strong hands slid under my armpits and grasped my ankles. I couldn’t struggle. Couldn’t understand where I was or what was happening.
It seemed vaguely that I was in the back of a car. I could smell the upholstery. My nose was on it. Someone was breathing very loudly. Almost snoring. Someone spoke. A jumbled mixture of sounds that made no words. It couldn’t have been me. Couldn’t have been.
The car jerked to a sudden stop. The driver swore. I rolled off the seat and passed out.
Next thing, bright lights and people carrying me as before.
I tried to say something. It came out in a jumble. This time I knew the jumble came from my own mouth.
‘Waking up again,’ someone said.
‘Get him out of here before he’s sick.’
March, march. More carrying. Loud boots on echoing floors.
‘He’s bloody heavy.’
‘Bloody nuisance.’
The whirling went on. The whole building was spinning like a merry-go-round.
Merry-go-round.
The first feeling of identity came back. I wasn’t just a lump of weird disorientated sensations. Somewhere, deep inside, I was… somebody.
Merry-go-rounds swam in and out of consciousness. I found I was lying on a bed. Bright lights blinded me every time I tried to open my eyes. The voices went away.
Time passed.
I began to feel exceedingly ill. Heard someone moaning. Didn’t think it was me. After a while, I knew it was, which made it possible to stop.
Feet coming back. March march. Two pairs at least.
‘What’s your name?’
What was my name? Couldn’t remember.
‘He’s soaking wet.’
‘What do you expect? He was sitting on the pavement in the rain.’
‘Take his jacket off.’
They took my jacket off, sitting me up to do it. I lay down again. My trousers were pulled off and someone put a blanket over me.
‘He’s dead drunk.’
‘Yes. Have to make sure though. They’re always an infernal nuisance like this. You simply can’t risk that they haven’t bumped their skulls and got a hairline fracture. You don’t want them dying on you in the night.’
I tried to tell him I wasn’t drunk. Hairline fracture… Christ… I didn’t want to wake up dead in the morning.
‘What did you say?’
I tried again. ‘Not drunk,’ I said.
Someone laughed without mirth.
‘Just smell his breath.’
How did I know I wasn’t drunk? The answer eluded me. I just knew I wasn’t drunk… because I knew I hadn’t drunk enough… or any… alcohol. How did I know? I just knew. How did I know?
While these hopeless thoughts spiralled around in the chaos inside my head a lot of strange fingers were feeling around in my hair.
‘He has banged his head, damn it. There’s quite a large swelling.’
‘He’s no worse than when they brought him in, doc. Better, if anything.’
‘Scott,’ I said suddenly.
‘What’s that?’
‘Scott.’
‘Is that your name?’
I tried to sit up. The lights whirled giddily.
‘Where… am I?’
‘That’s what they all say.’
‘In a cell, my lad, that’s where.’
In a cell.
‘What?’ I said.
‘In a cell at Savile Row police station. Drunk and incapable.’
I couldn’t be.
‘Look, constable, I’ll just take a blood test. Then I’ll do those other jobs, then come back and look at him, to make sure. I don’t think we’ve a fracture here, but we can’t take the chance.’
‘Right, doc.’
The prick of